


bruises on both my knees for you

by darklanguages



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest, Spitroasting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, brief mention of vomiting, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 00:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20826551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklanguages/pseuds/darklanguages
Summary: We all have our ways to cope.And then sometimes your brother butts his way in.





	bruises on both my knees for you

“Is he awake?” 

“I dunno. You care?”

A slow, faint smile spreads across his face, as he twists his hips back and forth in a way he knows lets the muscles stand out, lets the fluids spattered on him shine. Rough, broad hands grab Genji’s hips and yank him forward, hard enough for his back to skid along the easily cleaned leather surface. It probably makes a sound, the vulgar squeak of sweaty skin, but it’s lost among the bass-heavy drone of the music. It’s deep enough that it vibrates somewhere in Genji’s chest, his heartbeat lost amongst the artificial pulse.

Good. The less of his body he feels right now, the better.

His mouth has been hanging slightly open, slack, a line of saliva dripping down to fall somewhere on the filthy floor. Fingers push his jaw open wider, and he doesn’t even have to expend any energy to let someone slide back on his tongue. Soft skin, salt sweat, the tang that says he fucked someone earlier tonight. Genji doesn’t particularly care. The pill someone slipped him earlier on a kiss had a strange chemical bite that’s lingered, so he’ll take anything to get rid of the taste. He can’t fault the fuzziness it gives him, though: a perfect gauzy veil over the world.

Someone’s pushing into him now, thick and warm and sliding in on the leavings of others. Genji exhales in something like relief as the person bottoms out, inadvertently taking the man in his mouth in deeper. There’s a lovely few minutes where he’s caught between the two - pulled down, pushed up. All too soon there’s fingers tight on his thighs and grunted twitches inside him. Too soon there’s a moment of bitter chlorine flooding his tongue before it’s yanked out to spill all over his face.

It’s all right, though. There are always more.

Each body scrapes away a bit of Genji from the inside. When the man who was thick enough to make Genji crack and bleed at the edges pulled out, he took  _ back alley fixer for the clan _ with him. The man who carelessly pushed into Genji’s throat on the first thrust brought  _ failure of a brother _ out along with the saliva that filled his mouth. The trickle of blood from nails on his hips drains  _ the feel of a neck snapping under his fingers _ _._ It’s quite effective - by this point in the evening he’s down to drifting thoughts like  _ can’t remember mother’s face _ and  _ whatever happened to that one tutor I fucked and never saw again. _

It’s all to get rid of Him, of course. The real boogeyman behind every terrible thing Genji has done, every terrible thing done to him. If you’re not a real person, though, it can’t hurt. That’s what it comes down to in the end.

Genji’s flipped over, ass pulled up for easy access. His eyes slit open, the world a hazy blur of shadow and deliberate light. He wonders if Hanzo’s here. He shows up sometimes, watching from the edges as Genji does what he has to do to himself. Sometimes Genji knows he’s there, other times he’s too out of it to know what’s happening. It’s all another punishment, truly. Flavor that lingers at the end of the meal.

The man fucking him is rough, too rough, even for this crowd. Everyone knows Genji can take it, though. Can take anything. His head is hanging off the edge of the bench, shoulders pressed down by a heavy, heavy hand. The angle is making him lightheaded, blood rushing to his face. It takes him a moment to realize that his jaw is being pulled open. 

Genji would say that this was a bad idea with how he’s being pounded into already, but no one is asking him. Now there’s just a cock being slammed into the back of his throat by the force of the man fucking him, caught betwixt and between the forces of humanity. With every stroke his nose brushes up against the rough leather of a cock ring so he knows this isn’t going to end anytime soon.

Black dots speckle his vision. The next time the man in his mouth pulls back enough that Genji can breathe, it’s followed by a flood of saliva and bile. The man pulls out all the way, and there’s a moment of where he can draw breath before Genji’s head snaps to the side with a heavy blow he never sees coming. “Puke on me and you loose teeth,” is the flat-toned statement, and Genji nods before spitting to the side and opening his mouth once more.

He’s so close - he’s so  _ fucking _ close to finally passing out. The blackness at the edge of his vision is doing pretty little swirls inwards when suddenly Genji’s mouth is cold and empty, strands of saliva drifting in the air. There’s the unmistakable sound of blows, the spatter of something warm and tasting of meat on the side of Genji’s face. It’s unsurprising when a moment later he’s empty at the other end as well. He can feel himself closing up slowly, sloppily around thin air. 

The snip snip of shears, and Genji’s arms are falling to dangle at his sides. Broad, familiar hands pull him upright, and Genji is less than surprised when he blinks come-crusted eyes open to see his brother in front of him with a dark glare and a damp cloth in hand. Genji lets him clean his face off until it feels somewhat decent, then pushes Hanzo’s hands away and slides off the bench onto unsteady feet.

He allows Hanzo to keep his hands on his shoulders, his back as he puts on his clothes, if only because he thinks he might fall over otherwise. They make their way out into the cool Hanamura night, a possessively steadying arm wrapped around Genji’s shoulder blades. It’s only a few blocks to the side entrance to the castle gardens, one of the reasons Genji likes this club. 

Genji shakes Hanzo’s hands off once they’re inside and the gate is locked, fingers clenched around the back of a bench. Hanzo starts to say something, but Genji waves him silent with a hand. A few hitching breaths later and Genji’s vomiting into a cluster of pink peonies.

It’s mostly pure white that rains down. Genji doesn’t take his watering eyes off of Hanzo, who is staring at him in a mixture of fascination and disgust.

When Hanzo moves to take hold Genji again, he dances out of his grasp. The drugs are mostly out of his system by now, and the headache from the comedown is putting steel in his legs. They make their way inside, Genji less than surprised when Hanzo ushers him into his own bathroom. Hanzo is even more of a pampered prince in some ways than Genji, and his fancy soaps and oils are just one of the more obvious ways.

He knows that Hanzo wants to check him over, feel out the damage for himself. Genji turns in the doorway to face him, undressing pants first. Predictably, Hanzo turns away, color high in his cheeks. He doesn’t shut the door, though.

Genji washes carefully, slowly. The bruises and marks from tonight are slowly rising but the ones from earlier are in their full glory. The blood and spit and seed and sweat he’s been splashed with all night slowly thins out and runs down the drain. He hisses softly as the water runs over his cock, skin reddened and slightly swollen. No one had bothered to get him off tonight, it was just a long cycle of stiffening and wilting, over and over.

He leaves his stained clothes on the floor, wrapping himself carefully up into a towel. Hanzo’s room is dark, but Genji’s eyes adjust to the moonlight coming in enough to see his brother sitting up in bed as Genji makes his way to the door.

“Stay.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I. I read something -” Genji steps closer, to see his brother’s expression. He looks confused but determined. “It said you shouldn’t be alone -”

Christ. “Let me guess, you read baby’s guide to whatever and think you know what subdrop is. Congratulations. Let me know when you actually care.”

“I do care.” He sounds so  _ genuine _ and so frustrated, and Genji loses hold of his last fraying nerve.

“If you cared, then you would have helped when I asked you to.”

“What. What?” There’s something in the innocence of his confusion that makes Genji want to put his fist through something beautiful.

He takes a few steps forward, rips the covers back. Hanzo, too good to sleep naked like the rest of them, has just thin linen pants on. Genji drops his towel, slings a bare leg that anger has made graceful over Hanzo's chest. Hanzo grunts as Genji settles, ass nestling into the space below Hanzo’s ribs like it was made to be there. Hanzo is staring determinedly up at Genji’s face, hands clenched at his side. The expression on his face -  _ yet another thing to humor Genji with _ \- is annoying beyond words. He has no goddamned  _ idea. _

Genji reaches and grabs Hanzo’s hands, sets them on his knees. Lets him feel how they’re swollen and bruised. Watches his face as he realizes that these are injuries from earlier - earlier than this evening. Sees the confusion spread.

“I killed Kambei and Kyūzō Otomo this morning,” Genji says conversationally. “I do that a lot, little errands for him. Not that you'd know, he is so very picky with what information he likes to share as I'm sure you're aware.” He slides his hands on top of Hanzo’s, still on his knees, making them grip hard enough to compress the painfully swollen flesh. “I made a few errors, though. Let someone see me, had to kill a few others.” Genji breathes deeply, swivels his hips a bit. Sitting on top of so many bare muscles when he still hasn’t gotten off yet is a hardship.

“Would you like to know what happened when I got back?” Hanzo is shaking his head but his eyes are still on Genji’s, hands still trapped on his legs. “He made me grab a handful of rice from the kitchens and kneel on it. For hours. Said that if I made childish mistakes, he would punish me like a child.” He takes one of Hanzo’s hands, starts sliding it up his body. “Then he said that if I was already on my knees, I might as well make myself useful.” Genji slides Hanzo’s hand up, fitting it into the marks around the base of his throat. “Do you want to know what happened then?”

“No, he -”

“You have no idea. You are the scion, the one who is the, the face. The one who he punishes publicly. You know what he does in front of others, what do you think he would do behind closed doors?”

Hanzo is shaking his head, but his eyes are wide with fearful knowledge.

“And I asked you. That one time, a week after my birthday. Right before he sent you to Korea for the deal with the Maengs.” Genji had turned fifteen and been given a dagger and told who to use it on. He’d come back with two mens’ blood instead of just one on his shaking hands, and an hour after getting home had the last of his innocence trickling down the backs of his thighs.

“I was focused on the deal, and you were…” Hanzo’s cheeks color. “You were a teenager, Genji, and asking for -”

“Asking you to cover up what he had done,” Genji says quietly, easily. There’s anguish at the back of Hanzo’s eyes now, and Genji doesn’t think he cares right then. “You said no, so I found people that would say yes.” 

He pulls up on the hand around his throat, slips Hanzo’s thumb into his mouth. Despite his prudishness, despite what he says, Hanzo’s eyes darken as Genji’s tongue dances around the callused pad of his finger. He leaves Hanzo’s hand there as he brings up his other hand, licks it slowly and sloppily. Genji wraps it around his much-neglected cock, sighs around Hanzo’s thumb as he slowly starts to jack himself. 

“You let yourself stay blind,” Genji says, mouth half full with flesh that’s now sliding slowly around his mouth, tracing over lips and teeth and tongue. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” He grinds his hips down, and Hanzo’s hand on his knee tightens. “Doesn’t mean you ever get to judge me.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Genji laughs. Something like a laugh, at least, with a decade of pain behind it and Hanzo’s hand in him, shiny with saliva that spills over his lower lip. “What, are you going to stop him?” At Hanzo’s obvious hesitation Genji laughs again. “Or do you want to take their place?”

He’s been fucking into his hand with his hips, now he slows. Tenses internal muscles, pushes. He’s always careful to clean himself before days like this, so the only thing to drip and then flood onto Hanzo’s skin is the stale pleasure of several dozen strangers. Genji laughs at the look of disgust on Hanzo’s face. “If enough of them fill me up I can’t taste him anymore,” he breathes, before speeding his hands and hips back up.

“And so: you want to take their place?”

Before Hanzo can answer, can even think about answering, Genji’s head snaps back and his back arches. Pleasure threads through his sore limbs, and the stress of the day pulses out through him so strongly he can feel the throbbing in the careful hold he has on his cock. His eyes flutter open dazedly and he looks down, trying to focus.

Hanzo is staring up at him, unreadable expression on his face. Part anger, part arousal, part pure annoyance because his chest and even face are now streaked with Genji’s release. Genji can’t help but smirk a bit through his exhaustion.

“Looks good on you.”

Genji slides off of Hanzo, off of the bed. He picks the towel up from the floor, wraps it around his chest like a girl might. He saunters off towards the doorway, sliding it open.

“Genji.”

He turns, Hanzo’s face illuminated by the sliver of light from the hallway. Shine on his cheeks, his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Genji makes a noise deep in his throat, something broken, something painful. His flippancy is a shield and Hanzo is well aware of it. “Do you even know what for, brother?”

There’s silence as Genji slides the door shut.


End file.
